


Thick Thighs Have Caught His Eye

by Papa



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Chubby Reader, Drug Use, Gender-neutral Reader, Other, Past Abuse, Rating to Change, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papa/pseuds/Papa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From having their bike stolen to planning crazy heists, the Reader begins to grow a fondness for the one and only Trevor Philips. The latter feeling the exact same way; or maybe staring at people with a love struck look is normal for people nowadays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey! Stop!"  
  
    Today was just one of those days. You had been simply cycling around on your new bike, the one you'd been saving up for ever since you'd lost your old one due to some drunk psycho who wasn't paying attention to where they were driving. It was a rather intense situation which ended in threats of lawsuits and lots of cursing. Deciding it'd be best to take a short cut through one of the more rambunctious parts of the neighborhood, you had immediately realized what a terrible idea that was. The males who had sauntered up to you were no doubt the same age as yourself, if not a bit younger. They'd commented on your weight, of course, and then proceeded to shove you off of your bike and take off.  
  
    Now here you were, struggling to keep the bike thieves in your sight as you ran after them. It wasn't exactly practical, seeing as you weren't a big fan of running much and the thieves in question were much more gaunt than yourself, but you really wanted your bike back. The jeers and laughter of the running hoodlums practically egged you to run faster, which in turn made your legs begin to ache. You wouldn't be able to keep up with them for much longer...  
  
    It was at that moment a loud horn blared behind you, making you yelp in shock and immediately jump to the side. A loud red bodhi rumbled past you, its horn blaring all the while. You shielded your ears from the obnoxious noise, eyes wide as you watched the vehicle drive up next to the thieves, one of them daring to flip the car off. The car in return stopped suddenly in front of the group, a terrible screech from the brakes resonating through the air. You visibly winced as a few of the men slammed into the side of the car, the others stopping only inches away. The one who had grabbed your bike was among the ones to ram into the bodhi, having fallen to the hot pavement, holding his face as he screamed out obscenities.  
  
"Are you fucking _**kidding**_ me?"  
  
    You swallowed as the driver kicked open the door to the car, sliding out and staring down at the thieves with a dark look on his face. He was tall and looked to be pretty solid, aside from the slight chub you could see on his his midsection. His arms were crossed across a grimy white shirt, which was when you noticed he had a pair of blue jeans to match, and seemed to be scarred up.   
  
"You shitheads just ran into my truck!" The man snapped at the men, the ones who had fallen getting up shakily, "I _swear to **God**_ , if even _**one**_ of you little pricks..."  
  
    He trailed off, glancing in your direction. You immediately stiffened up, feeling suddenly self-conscious. You gave a small wave and were met with a raised eyebrow. He looked back at the men, then at the bike, and then back at you. He gave a loud sigh, raising a hand towards you and waved his fingers.   
  
"You! C'mere," He stated firmly.   
  
    Something about him made you want to listen, so you quickly went over, hoping to high heaven you didn't look as exhausted as you felt. The group of males looked incredibly tense, like they were ready to run off. The driver, however, didn't seem like he was the forgiving type. Reaching back into the front seat of the bodhi, he pulled out what appeared to be an old shotgun. The very sight of the weapon had you step back, the group of men all beginning to shout at the driver; questioning his sanity.   
  
"Y'know it isn't very nice to go taking what isn't yours," He stated gruffly, pumping the gun and immediately pointing it at the group, "So if I ever see _**any**_ of you little shits doing it again...well, there won't be much of you left."  
  
    The group managed to stammer out their apologies before the driver stamped a foot, "Now **_fuck off!_** "  
  
    He turned to look at you as the men ran away as fast as they could, all shouting among themselves. The man nodded to before tossing the still cocked gun into the bed of the car, kneeling down to pick up your bike. As he propped up the stand you cleared your throat a bit, still breathless from chasing the thieves.   
  
"Th-thank you," You said, brushing a hand through your messy hair.   
  
"No problem," He grunted in reply, straightening out to look at you fully, "I never liked bullies..."  
  
    He sounded a bit sad before he shook his head, "Any reason those assholes had your bike?"  
  
"How'd you know it was mine?" You asked, brows furrowing.   
  
"Well, for one," He held up his pointer finger, "You were running after a group of guys who looked like they were trying to get away. Two," He held up a second finger, "You looked pretty damn relieved to see that they stopped, and third," He held up a final finger, "You just admitted it."  
  
    You felt your already hot face heat up with embarrassment, making you rub your sweaty palms against your thick thighs. The man seemed to notice the action because his dark eyes glanced down towards your legs, his gaze lingering for longer than you were comfortable with.   
  
"I-I'm {Y/N}," You stammered, hoping to grab his attention to your face once again.   
  
"Hm?" He looked up once more, catching your eyes, "Huh, cute. Name's Trevor, Trevor Phillips."  
  
    You had a feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach that you weren't going to be forgetting that name any time soon. 


	2. Chapter 2

    It had only been a few weeks since you met the notorious Trevor Philips. The both of you had been talking constantly, usually hanging out with his other two friends, Michael and Franklin; both of whom you've grown to enjoy talking to. The day your bike had been stolen and easily given back to you, the both of you exchanged phone numbers; something you were a bit skeptical with but decided to agree since, at the time, you thought he would just take your bike instead. No more than an hour after the two of you departed, you received a rather choppy text from the man asking if you'd be interested in hanging out with him later in the week? Hesitantly, you had complied, asking what the both of you might be doing.  
  
_'drugs lol'_  
  
    You thought he was merely joking, so you agreed to meet up with him. Surprisingly, he hadn't been lying and had met up with you at some park in the middle of the city completely high and looking like he was ready to fall over. At first you wanted to turn tail and run, but when you noticed that he was already walking over to you, you sighed and bore with it. He was, to say in the least, not that different when he was sober, that is, if he was ever sober to begin with; so you didn't really mind his slurred tone and eccentric personality.   
  
    This had continued on for weeks, him and you meeting up at random locations, hanging out for hours at said locations, him often telling you stories of what he did that day or in his past and you complying with your own stories, and then you would both head out your separate ways or would splurge and get food. It wasn't until four or five weeks later did you actually meet Michael or Franklin. Both cases were by accident, the former having bumped into you on the street; you both were, surprisingly, on your ways to meet up with Trevor. The latter case was a bit more...well, intense. You'd been walking down the street back to your place and had been nearly run over by a large, drooling beast that seemed to be doing more harm then good. You'd screamed, the dog barked, and it's owner wrenched him off of you and immediately began apologizing. You'd gotten a few rather bad scratches on your legs, though they had scarred over fairly quickly the following days after, but other than that you were fine.   
  
    You had become acquainted with them rather fast, more so with Franklin since he was closer to your age, and you often found yourself texting them or calling them up to see if they were busy. It didn't take long before you were all hanging out on a regular basis; though they didn't really delve into their jobs or what they did for work. Trevor did talk much about his own work schedule, so you hadn't asked too much on the matter. Besides, everyone was entitled to their personal lives, right?  
  
    Currently, you were sitting on the back porch of Franklin's larger than average house up in the hills. You'd have never dreamed of living in such an expensive neighborhood, what with your shitty pay and even shittier bills, but you were content with having a friend live up there. You sipped at the glass of water you held, swaying your legs back and forth as you looked over the city with a look of content. You were never one for getting into trouble, which you merely thought was adventures, but you couldn't help but feel like that's just what you needed: some troubling adventures.  
  
"You doin' alright?" Franklin asked as he walked onto the porch, the drooling monster dog you discovered was named Chop, padded after him, "You space out like that often?"  
  
"Yeah," You laughed sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders, "It's just a little habit I can't get out of, sorry."  
  
"Nah, don't apologize, it's totally fine."  
  
    He sat down next to you, taking a swig from his brown bottle, sighing as he leaned back a bit. Having you around was always a pleasant treat for Franklin, seeing you as his closest friend besides Lamar; who you had yet to meet. You always had something nice to say about him, whether it was a compliment or a joke or even something interesting that had happened to you recently.  
  
"Anyway," Franklin took another sip from his drink, sighing in content as he looked out over the city, "Have you thought about movin' outta that place of yours yet?"  
  
"Yeah, right!" You laughed in return, shaking your head and running your fingers through your hair, "As if I could afford any place else."  
  
"I hear Sandy Shores is nice this time of year," Franklin gave you a smirk, obviously teasing.  
  
"Sure! Maybe I could have a slumber party with Trevor."  
  
"I think that'd end up in police sirens and hospital visits," He retorted, rolling his eyes.   
  
    The both of you continued to chatter and laugh for what seemed like hours before your phone began to ring abruptly. You actually jumped at the sudden sound, dropping your cup to the deck below the balcony. You cursed as you started to stand and fished around in your pockets for the annoying device. Your host stood up quickly, putting a hand on your shoulder with a smile.   
  
"You stay here, I'll go grab the glass," He said as he started to walk into the house towards the staircase, Chop padding along after him.  
  
    You wanted to give a quick shout of an apology but you knew you'd only be getting a phone call if it was important. Accepting the call and pressing the receiving end to your ear, you moved to sit back down on the edge of the balcony with a heavy huff.   
  
"Hello?" You asked, not having seen the caller ID ahead of time.   
  
"It's about time," a gruff voice snapped on the other end and you immediately regretted ever answering the call, "I thought you'd never pick up."  
  
"Mr. Withersby," You said slowly, forcing yourself to sit up a bit straighter. Even when the older male wasn't around, you still felt the need to be proper and polite. He was your landlord after all, "What can I do for you?"  
  
"What can you do?" He repeated snidely, "Well, let's see! You can start by paying your goddamn rent! You're three weeks overdue! Where's my money?! I got bills to pay too, y'know?"  
  
"O-oh my gosh," You stammered out, reaching your hand up to your mouth to chew on your thumbnail nervously, "I-I'm so sorry, sir, I-I thought-"  
  
"No more apologies!" The male cut you off, sounding like he was ready to pop a vein, "Enough with all these damn 'I'm sorry's and 'I'll have it soon's!"  
  
"I-I understand, M-Mr. Withersby, b-but-"  
  
"But nothing! Have my money ready by Friday or I'll evict your ass outta that apartment so fast you won't even have enough time to clean it out!"  
  
    And with that the line went dead and you slumped back down into a more comfortable sitting position. The sharp taste of iron hit your taste buds and you immediately pulled your hand away from your mouth, eyes widening a bit at the state of your thumb. You'd accidentally bit your nail a bit to close and managed to nick off quite a bit of skin. You swallowed thickly, squeezing your hand into a tight fist as you began to feel tears threatening to blur your vision.   
  
    You barely had enough money as it was! You swore to him that you'd pay him as soon as you could! Even if this _wasn't_ the first time you'd been late with rent, you'd always paid it eventually, right? With interest even! Damn that vile man! With your two jobs, both with odd hours, and many, many bills, you were at your limit. You'd even had to stop going to night classes at the local community college to get your technology degree, which you weren't too happy with. What were you supposed to do? It was hard enough to find even _one_ job what with your current...appearance. Why was life so difficult?!  
  
    You hadn't even noticed Franklin come back, cracked cup in hand and a shocked look on his face. Chop gave a loud whine as he trotted of to your side, licking at your arm in attempts to understand what was wrong. Franklin shooed him away as he walked closer, concern lacing his features.   
  
"H-hey..." He said worriedly, setting the cup to the side as he kneeled down and placed a hand on your back, "Why're you crying?"  
  
"I-I..." You were crying? You didn't even realize.  
  
    Reaching up to wipe your face only resulted in more tears and even a few sniffles. Franklin pulled you into a tight hug as you began to bawl your eyes out, stammering out what had happened over the call and how you were already tight with money. You sobbed about how you had no where else to go nor would you have enough money to pay off your land lord by Friday. God, you sounded pathetic. Here you were, in your friend's house, trying to have a good time and instead you were sobbing like a child. Well, who _wouldn't_ cry? Especially after such a phone call. Your anxiety was bubbling in the pit of your stomach and upsetting thoughts were swirling around in your head.   
  
"Shh, shh..." Franklin cooed as you cried into his shoulder, patting your back gently.   
  
    He was frowning in concern. You were really, really upset over this... But who wouldn't be? He knew how many times he was told he'd have no where to go by his aunt when he still lived with her. The screams and curses she'd send after him when he'd storm out of the house, the same burning words that would slap him in the face when he came back a few days later with cuts and bruises all over his face and arms. He knew where you were coming from and he wanted to help you.   
  
    The sounds of your breathing slowing down and your lack of shaking had him push you away a bit to look at your face, brows furrowing in concern. You _looked_ like you were calming down, though your eyes were incredibly red and puffy; hopefully that wouldn't last long.   
  
"You okay now?" He asked, sitting back a bit.   
  
"Yeah...S-sorry..." You stuttered, moving to rub your face, "I-I just..."  
  
"It's okay," he replied, sighing a bit, "Stuff like _that_ gets the best of us."  
  
"I guess..." You rubbed your arm, "B-but...what am I going to do now? Even if I _could_ find another job before Friday, I wouldn't even get a penny before then! And I don't get paid from my other jobs for another week or two! God!"  
  
    You pressed the palms of your hands against your eyelids to try and stop the next wave of tears from starting and Franklin took hold of your wrists in return, pulling your hands back down. He gave you a reassuring grin, which didn't really help you much.   
  
"You need money before Friday," He stated and you nodded, "It's Saturday today, yeah?"  
  
"Technically it's Saturday evening..." You replied shakily.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," He rolled his eyes, "That means you got five or six days to pay your rent."  
  
"Which is impossible..."  
  
"Hold on, nothin's impossible in San Andreas."  
  
"I can name a few."  
  
"Stop getting off topic. Anyway," He inhaled before giving you a bright smile, "I think I know a way to get you that money you need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in this chapter! Senior year is coming to a close so that means a lot more work! I also apologize for the choppy writing and the lack of Trevor in this chapter, I promise he'll have a much more prominent slate in the next chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> I have a GoFund me page (and have a note there to talk about what's also been going on) and it would mean the world to me if you could please go check it out. Thank you so much!  
> https://www.gofundme.com/23gqx78


	3. Chapter 3

"Well?" You raised an eyebrow at his dramatic pause, wanting to know exactly just what he meant by his statement, "You can't just leave me hanging like that."  
  
"Oh, uh, sorry," Franklin said as he rubbed the back of his neck as his smile melted into a sheepish grin, "W-well, me an' the guys have this little business where we sell...certain items."  
  
"Let me stop you right there," You held up a hand, brows already furrowing at the implication, "Are you about to say what I think you're-"  
  
"It's nothing bad," He raised a hand, "I swear."  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
    You made a face and looked back over the city, already feeling your palms grow clammy at the idea of just what he was going to say. Of course, your thoughts had immediately shot to drugs, but you had good reasons for that. As far as you knew your new friends were very wealthy, from houses to suggestive business, you knew they were loaded. You'd often wondered where the cash to own such things came from, though tried to keep from asking. On another note, they were awfully secretive about their jobs, although they occasionally slipped up about having to go somewhere late or needing to stay away from certain locations for a while. Once again, you thought best to not question them on their actions.   
  
"What is it then?" You asked, sighing as you turned your head to look at him once more, bracing yourself for the answer.   
  
"Furniture salesmen."  
  
    You stared at him for the longest moment, studying his features to try and see if he was joking. However, his face didn't crack, din't twitch, didn't show any sign of emotion other than sincerity.   
  
"Are you... What, for real? Like that Swedish furniture store?" You asked skeptically, already starting to feel as if he was messing with you. What kind of salesperson, a _furniture salesperson_ no less, had millions in their bank accounts? There had to be a catch.   
  
"Yep," He nodded, growing a rather smug looking grin across his features, "Well- not _exactly,_ but we're pretty close. _Trevor Philips Industries_ is the company name."  
  
    Rather surprised with the name, you tilted your head to the side in an almost bird-like fashion. Did that mean Trevor was the founder? Or at least the owner of the business? Well, duh. It had to have been him if his fucking name was the title of the company. You honestly would have never thought of him having such a job as...selling furniture.   
  
"Trevor's pretty proud of it," He said, chuckling slightly as he pulled out his phone; a sleek black device that never seemed to be off of his person, "Hold on- lemme make a phone call."  
  
"Wait-" You frowned and moved to fully face him head-on, "You didn't even offer me a job-"  
  
"Want a job? You got one," He said not looking at you, eyes on the phone screen as he unlocked it, "You'll have more than enough money by the end of the week to pay for rent. Shit- you'd probably be able to pay your rent for the next few months."  
  
    You were growing more and more curious as to exactly _how_ such a price could happen. Questions were swimming around in your head and your clammy palms had fully turned to pure sweat. You were pretty sure that even Chop could sense how confused and distressed you were. You knew you didn't exactly have a choice as you didn't have any other way to get the money and you didn't want to resort to anything... _drastic._ At least not yet.   
  
    Not having even noticed Franklin putting the phone up to his ear, a dial tone faintly reverberating through the air. You moved to tug at his sleeve, mouth opened as you were ready to bombard him with questions. You still didn't even know _exactly_ how much money you would be making nor did you know just what sort of job the career entitled. There were quite a few things that it could be. Did they have a warehouse that required workers? Perhaps someone to help build and set up the supplies in question? Or maybe they owned a store of some sort and needed a cashier or greeter. You were pretty sure that you would have noticed a store with such a name before, however.   
  
"Hey, T," Franklin said suddenly and you jumped a bit as you listened, "So, I'm pretty sure we got someone to help us with sales. Yeah, I know, I know, you needed somebody a while ago. Hey- _hey!_ Ain't my fault that people immediately turn away as soon as they hear the name! Well, you should'a picked out something that wasn't so _you._ "  
  
    You couldn't exactly make out the opposing words of conflict, though you knew for a fact that it was Trevor. He sounded annoyed, if not a little exasperated, no doubt trying to find something to quell his addiction. Maybe he'd sober up or something soon, you mused, wondering if he ever was in fact sober.   
  
"Yes, T, yes, just relax," He had started up again after a long pause, no doubt filtering through Trevor's poisonous vocabulary and slurred sentences, "It is in fact _them,_ calm down. No, I ain't making it up."  
  
    Franklin rolled his eyes before suddenly holding the phone out to you, shaking his head as he did, "Fucker don't believe me."  
  
"Oh, um," Taking the sleek phone from his hand and hold it up to your ear, you let out a small exhale, "H-hey, Trevor! I just want to say thank you for the job! I can't wait to start."  
  
"Well, well..." Trevor all but purred into the receiver, making you raise an eyebrow slightly, "Sweet little {Y/N} decided that they wanna play with the big boys, huh?"   
  
"I mean, I guess...?" You replied back, "What could be so bad about selling furniture?"  
  
    There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, making you pull it away to make sure it was still on before you heard Trevor speak again. His voice was a bit lower this time and there was a certain edge to his tone but you tried not to focus on it too much. You'd told him how you became anxious whenever anyone sounded mad with you and he'd promised that he'd never, _ever_ get upset with you in any way. However, at that moment, the promise seemed to be strained.   
  
"Oh nothing _too_ bad," He said finally and you glanced over to Franklin where he rolled his eyes once again, "It's really easy, sweet cheeks, and with those gorgeous legs of yours it'll be even _easier._ "  
  
    Face flushing from the comment had you grip onto the phone tighter. You weren't exactly sure how to take his words, as he sounded mad but was giving what might have been a compliment. A snort from the other end had you shudder in disgust.   
  
"How many times have I told you not to talk about my legs?" You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose, "They're not- ugh, and are you using right now? Why? Isn't this supposed to be a business phone call?"  
  
"One!" He declared after giving a hoot of delight and excitement, "You have the best goddamned legs I've ever fucking seen! They put Mikey's to shame! And two, yes! Yes, I am! And how else would you know that your new _boss_ might not know this is a business call?"  
  
"Wait- what?" You asked in a confused fashion.   
  
"Exactly! Meet me at Michael's in thirty!" And with that, Trevor hung up, no doubt to race to the mansion in question himself.   
  
    You sighed heavily and handed the phone over to Franklin as you tried to process everything that had just happened. None of your questions had been answered and all you wanted to was down a bottle of something sweet and maybe take a quick nap or two. You weren't prepared in the slightest for what might be in store for you in the future as you weren't anticipating anything other than selling a few couches or two.   
  
"He's got a point about your legs though," Franklin commented as he took his phone back, snickering as you jabbed him in the arm, "Hey, hey, sorry. C'mon, better start heading over to Michael's. Trevor'll have a bitch fit if he gets there before us, which'll be pretty hard to do with how far he lives away and all."  
  
    The both of you stood from your places and prepared to leave. You slipped on your jacket while Franklin disappeared to put Chop away until he returned. Once back in your sight, you both left the house and got into one of the man's many, _many_ expensive cars. A station dedicated to hip hop immediately started blaring in the speakers though you didn't say anything, enjoying the music as it bumped the bass. You could only hope that whatever was in store wouldn't be too...crazy. 

 

* * *

  
  
    Once at Michael's house, you slipped out and started up the path to the front door. It was already open, of course, no doubt Michael was awaiting your both's arrival and was busy with something inside. Slipping off your shoes and leaving them by the door, you padded on inside and began your search for the older man. It wasn't long before you found him in the backyard, in his usual lounge clothes and practicing yoga.   
  
    He seemed to be in a very odd position, one arm stretch upwards while his body leaned down towards the ground. You mimicked his actions much less gracefully, making a silly face as you did so. He chuckled in a breathless and moved stand straight, you following quickly in his wake.   
  
"Oh, please, don't stop on my part," You mused, trying to hold back the grin that threatened to overtake your face, "I find this incredibly amusing."  
  
"Ha, ha, ha," Michael said with a smirk before moving to pull you into a tight hug, "I'll have you know that yoga is a great way to handle stress."  
  
"I'll believe that when I see it," You laughed as you hugged back, the smile already breaking out, "It's great to see you again, Mikey."  
  
"Good to see you too, kiddo," He replied, "I mean, what, it's almost been two weeks! Where've you been hiding?"  
  
"Trying to survive mostly," You said with a chuckle, trying to make it sound lighthearted, "Working late and all that fun stuff."  
  
"Right, right, of course," Michael nodded, face softening slightly before he looked to Franklin, "You know when Trevor is coming?"  
  
    Franklin shook his head in return, having moved to cross his arms in a relaxed manner, "I figure he'll be here soon. He's usually always late."  
  
    You sighed, hands clasping behind your back as you looked down at your feet. You were rather excited to see Trevor, though you weren't completely sure as to why. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd promised to bring food the next time he would see you. You were still holding out for that promise as you'd been a little too preoccupied to have a proper dinner before coming over. Franklin had offered to pull over for a burger or hot dog but you were far more interested in the money that was calling out for you.   
  
"There she is!"   
  
    The sudden voice boomed across the backyard of Michael's home and you nearly jumped out of your skin at the pitch and volume. You turned to see a very happy, very dirty Trevor come stumbling out of the house. His usually grimy white shirt seemed to be dusted a light tan and mud, at least you hoped it was mud, and dried splatters of... _something_ were all over his pants. He had thrown his arms out, a confident smirk adjourning his face as he got closer, the fading sun reflecting off of his shades which had you furrow your brows.   
  
    If he was _truly_ high then why was he trying to hide it? He was never one to keep things secrets; well, at least you _thought_ so. However, it was a little odd for him to be wearing the glasses in such a late evening. Perhaps he drove all the way from Sandy Shores, you mused, that would make sense since he _was_ a little late. Plus, who liked driving with the sun blasting in their eyes? You certainly didn't. When you did drive, that is.   
  
"Heyyyyy there, sweet cheeks!" Trevor said immediately throwing his arms around you and humming in delight as he swayed you both side to side rather dramatically, "Thought you'd never make it!"  
  
    You tried to stutter something out and attempted to pull yourself out of his grip, but he only tightened his hold, beaming in delight as if you were some sort of long lost toy and he was a child just finding it again. Michael cleared his throat, taking a step forward and raised a brow, ready to come to your rescue.   
  
" _You're_ the one who's late, man," He said, frowning and crossing his arms, "And why the fuck did you decide to have this little 'meeting' at my house? Literally anywhere else would have been better."  
  
" _Because,_ Michael, I needed somewhere discreet," Trevor shrugged, moving one hand to pet the back of your head.   
  
"Wha- that's fucking stupid! Literally e _verybody_ knows where my house-"  
  
"Ah-ah-ah-ah!" Trevor let you go and shook his arms around, " _Exactly!_ The last place anyone would look is the _first_ place they should! God, you act like you've never done this before!"  
  
    Michael opened his mouth to retaliate, having clenched his fists tight enough that you could see them turning white. Once you dusted off your clothes from the sand and dirt that clung to you after Trevor's odd bear hug, you cleared your throat to have the other's attention. The duo, however, continued to go at it, practically at each other's throats. Franklin sighed and shook his head, looking to you and nodding for you to speak.   
  
"W-well, I just wanted to know what...what _this_ is actually," You said slowly, unsure of your words.   
  
    Trevor kept insinuating that he might have been followed to Michael's house, though the latter seemed more pissed off than anything while Franklin looked indifferent. Just _what the fuck_ was going on here? You had so many questions. Exactly why had Trevor called this meeting? Who were they hiding from? Why were they being so damn secretive about the business? You wanted to demand them to answer your questions, refusing to take 'no's or shrugs for an answer.   
  
"Just wait," Franklin replied and sighed heavily, "He'll snap out of it eventually."  
  
    And almost in an instant, Trevor spun around, arms out once again. He was beaming and ignoring every possible insult Michael was throwing at him, moving to push his sunglasses back to the top of his head.   
  
"Soooooo," He began, glancing you up and down and making you feel self-conscious, though you held your ground and stood a little straighter, "You ready to carry the ever so heavy burden of being an employee of TP Industries, {Y/N}?"  
  
"Y...es?" You replied, unsure of the odd tone in his voice, "I-I mean yes, sir."  
  
    Michael snorted and shook his head, turning to look away while Trevor puffed up his chest ever so slightly, personally enjoying being referred to with such a title.   
  
"Perfect! You get your first paycheck later tonight," Trevor said and turned to the others, hands on his hips, "As for you two! We gotta figure out where to deliver this next...supply of couches."  
  
    He made a point to stare at Franklin for a moment or two with an icy gaze before he rolled his shoulders and began to discuss possible drop-off locations. Meanwhile, you were gaping like a fish, fingers twitching anxiously as you stared ahead in shock. You'd...you'd _already_ be getting paid?! _What the fuck?_ Not that you were complaining but you were honestly surprised! You hadn't even _done_ anything yet! Why were you already getting a paycheck?!  
  
"W-wait! Trevor," You quickly took a step forward, forcing yourself to be part of their little triangle, "I already get a paycheck? W-what- hold on. What is going on here? I-I'm super grateful for the opportunity of a job but-but I need to know what I'm _doing._ Is it really just moving furniture? If this is something dangerous or even _illegal_ -"  
  
"Noooo, no, no," Trevor rolled his eyes and clapped a hand on your shoulder and you pursed your lips, "This is a completely legal business opportunity! You'll be helping these two...fine gentlemen and yours truly! Furniture moving is a very advanced business with great pay! What's not to understand? You're getting your money."  
  
"But...but what about my other jobs?" You asked weakly, already feeling stupid for asking.   
  
"Quit," He replied bluntly and shrugged, "It's not like you're gonna be needin' them when you get this first check. Trust me, you're gonna _love_ this job..."  
  
    You sighed and felt your shoulders drop ever so slightly. Part of you was telling you to keep pressing with questions, get a more clear outlook on everything, but you decided to push those nagging thoughts into the back of your head. If all that they said was true then you should have enough money to fully pay your rent and then some! Besides, you didn't think it polite to complain when they'd basically just hired you right out of the blue without an interview or anything. You were incredibly grateful for their generosity...plus you'd be able to work with people you were familiar with and didn't have to rush to multiple jobs one after the other anymore. As you continued on with your realization, Trevor and Michael exchanged looks. The former sporting a large smile while the latter looked a little concerned. Before he voice his opinion however, you looked up; the determination on your face making them all a bit surprised.   
  
"When do I start?" You asked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been 84 years since the last update, holy hell...

**Author's Note:**

> It's a shame there aren't enough reader inserts for GTA V, my favorite game ever. I think it's about time someone fixed that.  
> And how else other than making a chubby, gender neutral insert for everyone's favorite sociopath?


End file.
